


Moonbound

by Marauderess5



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also Sirius is fully aware that he's a drama queen, And you better believe James has a ship name for Remus and Sirius, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I was feeling really angsty, Just needed these boys to talk about their feelings, M/M, Remus Lupin whump, Suicidal Thoughts, hella angst, nothing too graphic though, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 05:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marauderess5/pseuds/Marauderess5
Summary: As Remus falls apart, Sirius is there to pick up the pieces.Shameless Wolfstar hurt/comfort, and I'm not even sorry. Enjoy!





	Moonbound

The full moon was already four days behind them, but  Remus Lupin’s demeanor told a different story. Sirius eyed the wan, waxen figure sitting opposite him in the Great Hall, feeling a sudden urge to snatch the traitorous _Daily Prophet_ from his hands, to smooth out the creases between his eyebrows, and to remind him of all of the fun frolicking that took place over the weekend, as the silvery orb in the sky smiled down on them.

But Remus was nose-deep in the wizarding newspaper, having consumed article after article since the incident occurred, since Peter brainlessly brought it up during their visit in the hospital wing the afternoon following the moon.

For the Marauders, it had been a good moon—one of the best, even—but for the wizarding world at large…

“Earth to Moonfoot! _Hellooooo_! What’s going on in there, mates?”

Sirius tore his gaze away from Remus and looked up into the teasing face of James Potter – a face that was hovering inches from his own, smirking like he had just caught a pair of fourth years snogging behind the Quidditch shed. An oblivious Remus continued to read.

“Nothing,” Sirius said, forcing a strained grin as he reached forward and grabbed the paper out of Remus’s grasp. Remus started, blinking down at his now empty hands, then raised his eyebrows at Sirius. Sirius returned the look with a severe expression that he hoped hid the churning knot in his stomach. “We’re done here.”

“Aww,” Peter groused, taking the seat next to Remus. “But we just _got_ here.”

Remus glanced at Sirius reproachfully. “It’s alright, Peter. We can wait. I’m in no hurry to get to Potions.”

“Cheers, Moony.” Peter chugged a glass of pumpkin juice, smacking his lips as he finished. “Besides, Prongs has to tell you about what just happened at Quidditch practice…”

“Ah yes!” said James, who had clearly been bursting to fill them in since he approached the table. “Wormtail had the best seat to catch all of the action. So, as usual, Shacklebolt was first out on the pitch. But right when I got there…”

Remus nodded and chuckled at all the right moments in James’s tale, but Sirius couldn’t help but notice that his eyes kept drifting towards the _Prophet_ lying open on the table. The headline blared like a klaxon call: _WEREWOLF RESPONSIBLE FOR ATTACKS PUT DOWN BY MINISTRY…_

 

—

 

“Hey.” Sirius pulled Remus aside as they entered the dungeon. “You okay?"

Remus flashed one of his trademark half-smiles, and despite himself, Sirius felt his legs turn to jelly. “Of course. No broken bones this time, eh?” 

“That’s not what I…” Sirius sighed. “You know what I mean, Remus.”

Remus stilled and looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Settle down, now, settle down,” said Professor Slughorn jovially, eyeing the two students still hanging around the classroom door. Remus headed to his seat, and Sirius followed, silently cursing Slughorn all the while.

Slughorn stepped around the front of his desk and leaned languorously toward the class. “Today we’re going to deviate from the syllabus,” he said. “You all know how I like to keep things interesting!”

A mildly sleepy silence met this pronouncement. Sirius began to doodle idly on his parchment while sneaking glances at Remus. 

The Potions master continued undeterred. “You all heard, of course, of the recent tragedy in Grimsby— the werewolf attack that left three dead and two others...well,” he adjusted his considerable bulk, staring morosely into space. James and Sirius simultaneously stiffened. Remus slowly shifted his gaze toward the bubbling cauldron beside Slughorn’s desk.

“Terrible, terrible,” Slughorn said. “Isn’t it terrible, Ms. Ellis? Seeing as your mother leads the Dark Creatures division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, I’m sure she’s told you all about it.”

“Yes, sir,” Fiona Ellis, a broad-shouldered Ravenclaw, replied, barely looking up from her textbook. “It’s terrible.”

“Yes, yes,” Slughorn mused. “Well, needless to say, I was so _deeply_ affected by this horrendous attack that I couldn’t help but wonder: What if it had been one of you? How could I live with myself…” he swept towards his bubbling cauldron, removing his wand from his robes to stir the contents of the potion, “...when I have the ability and knowledge to protect my students from such perilous evils?”

Some time during Slughorn’s little speech, the silence of the classroom turned from drowsy to alert, and Sirius’s doodles became furious scratches of ink.

Slughorn smiled like Christmas had come early. “This potion over here is a recent development in the fight against dangerous half-breeds. It won’t be in your textbooks, so you can put that away, Ms. Ellis!” He winked at Fiona, who was still poring over her copy of _Advanced Potions Making_.

“No, this rare potion – the Monkshood Potion – was developed by myself and some of my forward-thinking peers. In its purest form, it will kill any werewolf you encounter, or at least injure it severely enough that you’ll be able to escape unscathed and alert the proper authorities.”

At this point, the entire classroom was sitting stock still, rapt with attention. One or two Ravenclaws nodded grimly, as though preparing for a werewolf attack right outside the Potions dungeon, and a couple of Gryffindors rolled up their sleeves eagerly. Sirius huffed and opened his mouth to argue, but Remus quickly stepped on his foot and jerked his head to the side. “Don’t,” he whispered.

Sirius turned to Remus, eyes blazing. “Why _not_?”

“Too suspicious,” Remus said, barely moving his lips. His face was pale, but his gaze was set.

One table over, too far for Remus’s other foot to reach, James piped up, “Professor, using this potion seems like a rash decision, don’t you think?”

Slughorn blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“What if the werewolf is in human form? Wouldn’t this harm an innocent witch or wizard?” James pressed.

Slughorn laughed, and titters erupted around the dungeon. “Innocent?” he said. “It’s a werewolf, Mr. Potter! Or did you miss the front page of the _Prophet_ this weekend?”

Davey Gudgeon leaned toward James and said, “Aw come on, Potter, this one actually sounds cool!”

“And useful,” agreed Davey’s potions’ partner, a squirrely looking boy with blonde hair.

“I’m with James,” Sirius said, at the same time as Peter muttered: “But it would be helpful if we ever encounter really dangerous ones, right?”

Sirius sputtered incoherently, and Remus reached out grasp his arm. “ _Please_ , Sirius! It’s not worth the risk!” His chestnut eyes were wide with panic, and the hand gripping Sirius was shaking slightly. Sirius sighed, but his stormy expression remained. “Alright, alright.” He mouthed something at James, who frowned.

“Now then!” Slughorn clapped his hands, emboldened by the rest of the class’s enthusiasm. “I should inform you all that the potion isn’t yet perfected– but I encourage all of you to use your creativity and figure out ways to improve the concoction! Not only will you earn a higher grade, but you’ll certainly be doing wizarkind a great and noble service. You have until the end of the class to complete the assignment, and the instructions—” he waved his wand— “are on the board. Begin!”

Sirius turned immediately to the boy sitting beside him. “Remus,” he said desperately, “You don’t have to—”

“Of course I do.” Remus slid out of his seat. “I don’t want to fail the assignment.”

Sirius would have smiled, were the situation not so...well, serious. “Not if you say that you’re sick–”

“Sirius, how obvious would that be?” Remus’s carefully constructed veneer of calmness cracked, as he ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “The student who’s absent once a month walking out during the werewolf-repellent Potions class?”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but Remus was already halfway to the potions cupboard. Sirius hurried after him, realizing this was one battle he was never going to win. But as Sirius had learned long ago: when you couldn’t win with Moony, you just had to throw up your hands and join him.

Unfortunately, Remus was making it quite difficult. Four ingredients in, Sirius’s Monkshood Potion was already an unmitigated disaster (which meant, in Sirius's view of things, that it was an unmitigated _success_ ), but Remus’s potion was looking… shockingly, unquestionably perfect.

Sirius had assumed that Remus, who usually struggled in Potions (and, it should be noted, _only_ in Potions) would’ve had an especially difficult time putting together the ingredients for the Monkshood Potion. But Remus was chopping, scooping, and stirring like a man possessed. As Sirius continued haphazardly throwing together his own potion– purposely messing up the proportions, indiscriminately chopping his Knotgrass and messily crushing his Lacewing flies– he kept a keen eye on Moony, who was measuring and slicing with a steely resolve that looked uncannily inhuman. After forty five minutes, Remus’s potion sparkled with a silvery sheen, while Sirius’s was emitting sulphurous orange sparks.

It wasn’t until Sirius’s potion began to melt through his cauldron that he noticed that, although Remus’s potion was eerily pristine, something was definitely wrong with Remus; his forehead was damp with sweat, but his face was chalk-white, and it looked like every ragged breath was causing him pain. He was clutching the side of the table with one hand, as though it were his lifeline and he was slowly, agonizingly drowning.

Sirius looked around the classroom, disgusted by the varying levels of enthusiasm among the students. _They’re hurting_ Remus _, can’t they see…?_

But they couldn’t, of course; Remus would never, ever let them. And as the deadly vapors slithered around the classroom, as Remus stumbled on his way back from the ingredients cupboard, Sirius knew what he had to do.

“Professor,” said Sirius loudly, raising his hand unnecessarily as Slughorn glanced his way. “I’m feeling ill. May I go to the hospital wing?” He covered his mouth and nose with the back of his hand, faking intense nausea. But the pungent odor emanating from his cauldron combined with the knot of fear in his stomach at Remus’s worsening condition made it feel like less of an act.

Irritated but nonetheless convinced, Slughorn waved him away. “Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “But you’ll need to make up the assignment…”

Sirius snorted ( _sure, that’ll be the day_ ) and began to hobble towards the back of the classroom, taking the long way around the table so he could pass right by Remus. When he reached Remus’s end, he groaned dramatically and steadied himself on Remus’s shoulder, giving him a meaningful look.

Remus, who was certainly _not_ faking his pain-addled dizziness, was a bit slow on the uptake. Finally, as Sirius began to tug him out of his chair, Remus rasped, “I’ll… I’ll help him, Professor.”

Students who had looked up in curiosity at Sirius’s performance quickly lost interest as the two Marauders made their way to the back of the classroom. Remus began to cough weakly.

“Almost there,” Sirius murmured, gripping Remus tightly.  
  
The moment Sirius closed the classroom door behind them, Remus sunk to his knees, clutching at Sirius’s robes.  
  
“Remus, hey,” Sirius followed him to the hard, cold floor. “Can you walk? Should I get Pomfrey?”  
  
Remus’s ragged breathing was the only sound in the silent hallway. Sirius placed a steadying hand on his arm, trying to catch his eye.  
  
“Don’t…It’s not…” Remus closed his eyes, face creased in pain. “…worth…”  
  
“What?” Sirius said sharply. “Remus, what’re you…” 

Remus didn’t answer right away. His fingers brushed the Gryffindor crest on Sirius’s robe before he doubled up in pain, wheezing. Sirius hands roamed, ineffectively trying to help, to _heal_ . Remus coughed out what might have been a dark laugh. “Let’s see how effective…the potion…really is…"  
  
Sirius’s heart clenched, and he tightened his hold on Remus, afraid he might melt away. He responded with a voice laced with vintage, aristocratic Black steel. “Not an option, Moony.”  
  
Remus groaned quietly and leaned forward, resting his head against Sirius’s chest. Sirius swallowed thickly, moving to cup his hand along Remus’s neck, but nearly jumped back as Remus’s skin touched his. “Merlin!” Sirius yelped. “You’re _burning_ , Moony! I didn’t…” he gulped. “I didn’t realize it was this bad. Come on. Hospital wing, _now_ .”  
  
A listless response from Remus caused Sirius’s heart rate to spike. “Remus…?”

In his mind’s eye, he saw a second-year Remus contorted in fear as his dormmates confronted him about his dark secret. He saw Remus’s barely concealed agony after a particularly bad moon left Remus with more broken bones than Sirius could count. He saw the shame that burned Remus from the inside out when they had to write essays on werewolf extermination in their fourth year.

But he also saw Remus patching him up after an encounter with a particularly nasty group of Slytherins, calloused fingers gently brushing his own. He saw Remus comforting a small and pudgy Peter Pettigrew when Sirius and James stood by and did nothing, before the Marauders came to be. He saw Remus smiling at him with that damned half-smile, hesitantly leaning forward under the mistletoe...

 _No_.

_I’m not going to lose you, Remus._

_Not like this. Not ever._

  
“Alright,” Sirius muttered, looping one arm under Remus’s knees and another behind his back. “Alright. And people call _me_ a drama queen.”  
  
Sirius set off for the hospital wing, uncomfortably aware of Remus’s labored breathing—until, suddenly, he wasn’t. “Remus!” Panicked, Sirius jostled the prone figure in his arms. “ _Remus_!”

Sirius ran.

Legs burning and arms shaking, Sirius sprinted as fast as his body would let him, and then ran faster, barely keeping his hold on Remus as he crossed into the hospital wing. At his frantic call, Madam Pomfrey looked up from her desk and took in the sight with a single glance. Before Sirius could blink, she was at his side, feeling for Remus’s pulse with one hand and tracing her wand along his chest with the other. Sirius settled Remus gently onto the floor, cushioning his limp head in his lap.

“What happened?” Madam Pomfrey asked briskly.

“He—” Sirius could barely breath. “In Potions class. Slughorn assigned this— this...potion that is supposed to k-kill werewolves.” Madam Pomfrey looked up quickly, and Sirius thought he caught a glimmer of fear in her normally stern expression. “He drank it?”

Sirius swallowed. “No, no. But…thirty cauldrons simmering with monkshood...it filled the whole dungeon…”

Sirius was babbling, and Pomfrey was barely listening, and Remus, Remus was so still, so pale—

All at once, Remus gave a great, shuddering gasp, and Pomfrey paused in her intricate wandwork to lay a comforting hand on his chest. “Easy, Remus,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “Just breathe. You’re okay.” He coughed and coughed, and Sirius’s own lungs ached in sympathy, as red-rimmed eyes flickered open and found his own.

“Hey,” Sirius croaked, touching a trembling hand to Moony’s feverish cheek.

"The immediate danger has passed,” murmured Madame Pomfrey, expert eyes raking over her patient. “But he still needs some more Healing…I certainly don’t like the sound of those lungs. And that fever…Do you have any pain, dear?”  
  
Blearily, and clearly in a considerable amount of pain, Remus shook his head.  
  
“None of that, Remus,” Pomfrey chided. “Tell me the truth, so I can help you out before Mr. Black here has a heart attack.”  
  
Remus closed his eyes, the ghost of a smile on his face as he leaned into Sirius’s touch. “Head,” he whispered. “Chest. It feels like…sludge in my veins…”  
  
Pomfrey nodded, smoothing back Remus’s sweat-slicked hair in a motherly way that sent a deep twinge of jealousy through Sirius.    
  
“We can fix that,” she said, unsheathing her wand again. “Let’s get you settled in your usual bed.” Before conjuring a stretcher, she looked up at Sirius sternly. “I know you’re concerned, Mr. Black, but I need you to wait outside. I’ll fetch you when he’s ready to be seen.”  
  
After a brief, heated exchange, Sirius settled himself onto the main ward bed closest to Remus’s private room. At least, he thought glumly, Pomfrey knew she didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of convincing him to go back to class.

  
  
— 

  
Sirius was staring at the sterile floor, head in his hands, when James finally burst in.

He looked furious. 

“Slughorn made me stay and actually finish my potion.” He tossed his satchel onto the bed opposite Sirius and sat down in disgust. “Said whatever was wrong with—well, _you_ , didn’t look too life-threatening. And Peter had to stay behind to scrub his own disaster out of his cauldron. Honestly. I told him not to muck it up _too_ much…” James leaned back and swung his feet to and fro. “So. How’s he doing?”

Sirius knew James well enough to understand that his impassive air was an act.

Sirius sighed and chewed on his lower lip. “I’m not sure.”

“What?” James didn’t bother to hide his concern this time. “What does that mean, you’re not _sure_?”

“Well,” Sirius glanced at the closed door. “It looks like Pomfrey can sort him out, as usual. But it was touch and go for a minute there, he must have inhaled so much of the odor from the potions that were actually brewed correctly…” Unbidden, an image of Remus’s still form floated to the surface of his mind. Shuddering, he forced it back down.

James’s hands tightened around the thin hospital wing bed. His knuckles whitened. “Bloody Ravenclaws,” he spat. “Teacher’s pets, the lot of them.”

Instead of joining in on the ribbing, Sirius frowned, looking introspective. “Remus too,” he muttered.

“Sure,” James smiled. “But he’s _our_ teacher’s pet.”

 _Was that all it was?_ Sirius thought. _A desperate bid to prove himself adept at Potions?_

“No. It’s not that. I mean…” Sirius swallowed thickly. “He was making the potion _perfectly_ . Every stroke, every ingredient. You know how he’s usually rubbish at Potions, but…it seemed like he wanted to get _this_ one right."

They sat in silence for a moment. Jame looked at him intently. “What are you saying?”

Sirius felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes, and he blinked them away furiously, clutching his hair with long, trembling fingers. “That he meant for the potion to hurt him, that he knew what the effects of a dungeon full of Monkshood Potion would do, and he didn’t care. He said to me, outside the classroom, he said…he said it wasn’t wasn’t worth going to the hospital wing, that _he_ wasn’t worth—“

“Hey.” James slid to the ground to and gazed up at Sirius, whose head was bowed. “ _Hey_. Look at me.” He squeezed Sirius’s knees, and the latter slowly looked up. “Remus is going to be fine. Pomfrey can sort out anything. Remus was in a lot of pain—he probably wasn’t thinking clearly.”

 _No_ , Sirius thought. _Remus is no stranger to pain. And he’s never let it get the best of him before._

But as Sirius peered at James’s earnest expression, he desperately wanted to believe him.

“Sure,” he said. “I suppose.”

Perhaps noticing Sirius’s hesitation, James opened his mouth to reply, just as the door to Remus’s room cracked open. Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at the sight in front of her.

“Oh you’re here too,” she said, unsurprised, as she closed the door quietly behind her.

James grinned winningly. “Can we see him?”

“You may,” Pomfrey replied. “But he’s resting, so _please_ don’t wake him up. He’s had enough excitement for one day, I should think.”

Remus was curled up on his side, small creases in his forehead betraying the true nature of his “rest.” Sirius settled into his usual chair by Remus’s head, putting his feet up onto the mattress. James remained standing, taking up a post at the foot of the bed.

James took out his snitch, and Sirius opened up one of the muggle magazines he had pilfered and stockpiled over the summer. After reading the same sentence four times in a row, he became aware of James’s eyes on him. 

“ _What_.”

James continued to release and grab the snitch without taking his eyes off of Sirius. “He’ll be _fine._ You know that, right?”

Sirius put down his magazine and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What makes you so sure?”

“Because he’s Moony,” James said, favoring Sirius with a small smile. “He’s the strongest and bravest person we know."

Sirius looked at the lines on Remus’s face, at the premature wisps of white in his hair. “Sometimes it doesn’t come down to that, Prongs,” he said softly.

Remus once told Sirius about a werewolf he had met in Derbyshire, a young boy—a kid, really—who had been bitten. When the news made it through the grapevine to the Lupin family, Mrs. Lupin had suggested Remus spend a few days with him over the summer. Remus kept in touch with the boy after that, and the boy seemed relatively happy for a while. He had older siblings who adored him, and parents who kept him under their roof...which was rare enough in the wizarding world. But the boy lost a bit of himself every time he transformed. And there were bullies, of course. There are always bullies. When they found the body, they couldn’t even identify the cause of death.

“Whatever happens, we’ll be there for him,” James said, finally stuffing the snitch back into his robes. “Even Pete, if he can ever get his head out of his arse.”

Sirius pulled himself out of his reverie and chuckled. “Speaking of which. Maybe you should make sure he didn’t fall into his cauldron and drown?"

“I  _should_ ,” agreed James. He glanced at the sleeping boy in the bed, then back at Sirius. “I’ll bring you two some dinner on our way back, yeah?”

Sirius’s stomach growled. “As much as you can levitate."

“As much as I can levitate _after_ part of your dinner gets tragically lost forever in Snivellus’s hair.”

Sirius grinned. “You’ll do what you must, I’m sure.”

He waited a beat after the door closed behind James, then addressed his magazine with a sidelong look at the figure next to him. “You can drop the act now, you prat.”

Remus half-smiled through dry lips.

Sirius swallowed, unsure of what to say next. He leaned over and gently grasped Remus’s hand, staring at the lines in his young face as though he could erase them with the intensity of his gaze. Remus opened his eyes and tightened his hand over Sirius’s.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” said Remus quietly.

Sirius swiped angrily at the wetness in his eyes. “You should be.”

Remus’s expression twisted in pain, which only served to fuel Sirius’s fear-tinged aggravation. “How could you even think of doing that to me? To all the people who care about you? To _yourself_?” His heart thumped in his throat.

“You heard Slughorn,” Remus said bitterly, shifting onto his back. “And he’s not wrong. The wizarding world is better off without my kind.”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Well Slughorn is a—a—“

Remus cut in before Sirius could find a bad enough word to describe their Potions professor. “He’s not that awful, Padfoot.”

Sirius choked.

“ _Really_ , he’s not. He’s just being practical. And he’s just expressing what most people believe.”

“Most people are bloody idiots.”

Remus removed his hand from Sirius’s death grip and wearily rubbed at his forehead. “Maybe.”

“ _Maybe_?”

A shout from the lawn outside broke into their conversation, drawing both boys’ attention to the window. A chorus of tingling, lighthearted laughter trickled upward.

“Why do you insist on lumping yourself in with the worst of the worst?” Sirius frowned at Remus intently. “You always tell me not to define myself by my horrific excuse for a family. Why don’t you take your own advice?”

“It’s different...” Remus’s voice cracked. “I’m...I’m dangerous…”

“You’re _not._ ” Sirius leaned forward, overcome with a bone-deep need to make Remus understand. “You’re smart, and funny, and kind, and your only barbaric trait is that you mix together the different food groups on your plate at mealtimes.”

Remus huffed a laugh but didn’t look up, picking at a loose thread in the thin blanket.

“The _wolf_ is dangerous,” Sirius pressed on, “but Remus always makes sure the wolf is under control— prioritizing the safety of others over his own, I might add.”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but Sirius wasn’t finished. He was going to get this idea through Remus’s thick skull if it killed him. Or, more likely, both of them.

“How many times do I have to tell you that what other people think _doesn’t matter_ ? I know who you really are. James and Peter know who you really are. Your furry little problem doesn’t define you, not in our eyes. I won’t let you give up on everything else that makes you _you_.”

Remus scrubbed both hands along his face. “I… Okay,” he said shakily, and Sirius realized his hitched breathing wasn’t just an aftereffect of the Monkshood Potion. "I’m just…I’m so tired, Sirius.”

“It's okay,” Sirius said, wiping a renegade tear from Remus’s cheek. “I’ll be here.”

Remus closed his bloodshot eyes, shoulders hunching. “No,” he said. “I mean, I’m _tired_. Of all of it.”

“I _know_ . And I’ll _always_ be here for you, Remus.”

“I don’t want you to— I didn’t ask for—”

“Well, too bad,” Sirius said, with a haughty flip of his head. “You’re stuck with me.”

The sudden contrast between Sirius’s dog-like earnestness and his Black-family hauteur made Remus cough out a laugh. “Down, boy.”

Sirius smirked in response and promptly transformed into Padfoot. Alarmed, Remus scrambled to a sitting position. “ _Sirius_!” he hissed. “Are you mad?!”

Padfoot’s wagging tale drooped, and he whined softly, placing his two front paws on the bed and nudging his snout under Remus’s hand.

“Yes, yes, you’re very sweet,” Remus whispered hurriedly, patting Padfoot on the head while darting furtive looks at the closed door. “Now come on, change back!”

Before Remus could do so much as blink, Sirius once again stood in front of him, paws—or rather, hands—still planted next to Remus on the bed. A roguish grin split his face.

Remus winced and lowered himself gingerly back onto his pillow. “I hate you,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“I know,” said Sirius, running his fingers through Remus’s hair. His skin was still warm to the touch. “Now rest.”

After Remus finally drifted off, Sirius himself fell into a doze, until James and Peter came barreling in with pudding pies, pastries, and tales of Snivellus mishaps. And when Madam Pomfrey poked her head in much later, she found Remus sleeping peacefully, with Sirius Black curled up beside him in the bed. She shook her head, smothered a smile, and closed the door.

 


End file.
